Everything Will Be OK
by stoertebeker
Summary: How will John and Sherlock cope when a routine medical examination turns out with bad results for John? How will Sherlock cope with the possibility that the man he loves has a severe illness? Johnlock, established relationship
1. A waste of time?

_**This fan fiction is my result of the Secret Santa writing challenge on the BBC Sherock Fan Forum. It's my gift for **_**NotYourHousekeeperDear**_** and her prompt was 'a bit of romance and angst'. I hope she liked it and I hope you will too :-)**_

_**********Thank you very much to **_**********shouldbestudying**_********** and **_**********kittykat**_********** for beta-reading.**_

_**Please note, this is my first fan fiction and I am not a native speaker, therefore every advice for improvement of grammar, sentence structure or spelling is ****appreciated :-) **_

_**Warning: Mention of severe illness.**_

* * *

**1. A waste of time?**

John had just finished his breakfast and was about to get ready for work as Sherlock called from his favorite spot on the sofa. "We are going to meet Lestrade at the Yard in an hour."

John looked at his partner and sighed. "You are going to meet him. I am going to work."

"You have work today?" Sherlock asked in astonishment.

"Yes," John replied and pointed towards the small calendar on the kitchen wall.

"Oh!"

Sherlock, though gifted with a massive intellect and a remarkable ability to notice and remember even the tiniest details at a crime scene, was somehow not able to memorize whether John had a shift at the hospital or not (or maybe he just deemed the information as unimportant and deleted it right away). So John put the calendar on the wall and marked every day, he had to go to work.

John only took a part-time job at a hospital near Baker Street. It was ideal; he could assist Sherlock with his cases and keep practicing as a doctor. Although Sherlock sometimes complained about John having not enough time for him, he also knew that John was very devoted to his work as a doctor. And of course, Sherlock would never really try to keep John away from his profession. Everything that made John happy, made him happy too.

Their relationship had changed a few months after Sherlock's return from his death. It took a while until Sherlock was able to figure out these strange new feelings towards his flatmate. And it took some more time until he was able to confess. First, Sherlock had tried to ignore the confusing emotions that bubbled inside him whenever John was around. Then he tried to get rid of them by avoiding John's presence. He spent long evenings in the lab and didn't ask John to accompany him to crime scenes anymore. Until one day John was fed up with Sherlock's behavior and suggested leaving Baker Street because obviously Sherlock did not need him anymore. On that point, Sherlock was finally able to tell John the truth about his feelings towards him. It took a night's sleep and some hours of shock and musing, until John could admit to himself that he reciprocated.

After being a couple for almost 8 months now they had developed a fairly good routine in their relationship - anything far from ordinary of course, but normal enough for them.

"When will you be back?"

"My shift ends at 3pm. But I have an appointment with Sean afterwards to discuss my examination results."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Waste of time," he said.

John sighed again. They had this discussion already. John, as a responsible doctor, always made a general medical check-up once a year. He tried to convince Sherlock to do the same, although he already guessed his partner's reaction.

"_That's completely ridiculous! We are both in an absolute perfect health. Such an examination is a total waste of time!"_

John had resigned that argument rather quickly. He had hoped Sherlock would be a bit more reasonable after the events of last winter, where a very though case of flu rendered the detective bedridden for almost a week. After that Sherlock had admitted that a flu vaccination (which he had refused as dull previously) could be (perhaps!) an appropriate precaution next time.

"However," John said after putting on his jacket. "I should be ready at about 4pm; shall I meet you at the Yard or Bart's?"

"I'll text you."

With a quick kiss on Sherlock's temple and a ruffle through his partner's curls, John left.

* * *

"You are in pretty good health, John," Sean said and smiled at him.

Sean O'Mara was a former colleague of John from university but both men lost contact after John joined the military. Sean had started to work in the hospital a few weeks after John. They were more than surprised as one day both accidently bumped into another, John leaving the elevator, Sean entering it. Since then, they kept close contact and sometimes went for a drink after work, frequently accompanied by Mike Stamford.

"Blood pressure, cholesterol level, blood sugar, everything within the optimal range," Sean continued while he looked at the test results. His smile had faded a bit.

"But?" John asked noticing the small frown on his colleague's forehead.

"Your liver values are not OK," the other doctor answered. "Look." Sean handed the paper to John and pointed at some figures with his biro.

"Mmhh, yes, I see. They are a bit too high," John agreed with a frown.

"You had any problems recently? Fatigue, pain?"

John thought for a moment, then shook his head. "None at all."

"Well then," Sean said. "It's most likely just a spontaneous deviation or even a mistake in the analysis. But I will draw another blood sample and send it for a second analysis, just to be on the safe side."

"Right, go ahead," John nodded and rolled up the right sleeve of his jumper. Of course he knew that irregular results could happen without any actual cause.

"If you don't hear anything from me within the next few days, everything is fine," Sean said after labeling John's fresh blood sample. "Otherwise I'll call you."

"Fine. Going for a pint again soon?"

Sean grinned. "Sure!"

With a tiny bit of worry John left the hospital. His phone beeped. It was 4pm exactly; of course, Sherlock had took him by his word.

_Barts. Lab. Meet me there. SH_

_On my way. JW_

John had hardly entered the laboratory, before Sherlock begun to tell him about the latest case. A car mechanic had been stabbed in his garage. John asked about some details that Sherlock deemed unimportant and had left out. Then they started with the experiments Sherlock deemed important to do. He was bent over the microscope and several test tubes while analyzing different types of engine oils. John on his side handed him ingredients and took notes about the results.

Quarter to nine, after Molly's third attempt to get rid of them and John's loud growling stomach, Sherlock finally gave in to leave the lab.

"By the way," Sherlock asked while the two men waited for a cab to arrive. "How were your examination results?"

John had already forgotten about his conversation with Sean. "As you said," he answered without thinking. "Perfect health."

Sherlock huffed. "I told you so, total waste of time."

On their ride home, Sherlock was franticly typing on his phone, John wondered whether he should have told Sherlock about the abnormal liver values. But finally he shook his head. _Don't be silly_, he told himself. _It's nothing. No reason to worry._


	2. Something is wrong

**2. Something is wrong**

Three days later, John had just started the morning shift; he got a call from Sean. "Hey Sean. What's up?"

"Hello John. I just got the results from your blood analysis."

John felt that small pang of worry again. Sean had said, he would only call, if something wasn't right. "So, the liver values are still too high?" John asked.

"I'm afraid yes. Would you mind, coming over today? I would like to make an ultrasound scan."

"Sure. What time?"

* * *

John felt uncomfortable lying on the examination table while Sean put some gel on his stomach. The doctor seemed to notice John's tension. "Doctors are the worst patients, mmhh?" he teased smiling as he started to move the ultrasound head over the area he wanted to examine.

"Yeah," John said also smiling. "We know everything better."

John couldn't see the screen of the device from his position on the bed. He didn't like that because, yes, he was a doctor and he wanted to know what was happening inside him. But he knew how unnerving a doctor-patient can be, so he kept quiet and just observed Sean's reactions. Like some days ago the smile on his colleague's face disappeared. _He just concentrating_, John told himself. _You are always extra careful, when examining a colleague._

After a few minutes Sean finished the scan and handed John some paper towels. "You can put your jumper back on. I'm going to make some prints, so we can discuss them."

_OK_, John thought while wiping the rest of the gel from his belly. _Something is wrong._

They met a few minutes later in Sean's office. "There are irregularities on the scan," Sean said and laid the pictures on the desk, so that John could see them. "Here," he drew a circle around a certain area with his pen. "and here."

John nodded. It was on all the pictures and clearly visible from the different angles. There was definitely a change in the tissue structure, but it was not explicit enough to reason the kind of abnormal formation. _It could be anything. It could be harmless but also…_ "OK. What's next?" he asked, stopping this train of thoughts. "MRI scan, I suppose?"

"Yes," Sean nodded and picked up his phone. "I'll see whether you can get an appointment tomorrow."

* * *

Sherlock was occupied with some experiment in the kitchen when John came home.

"How was your day?" Sherlock mumbled after John had bent down and put a kiss on his partner's head.

John hesitated for a moment. He got his appointment for the scan tomorrow at 10am. He was worried but also tried to be reasonable about it. The ultrasound pictures didn't mean anything yet. It could still be a harmless tissue change which will go away by itself. _No reason to worry Sherlock._

"OK, but strenuous patients today," John said because he knew Sherlock would notice that something was up. "I'm tired." He considered his options for a moment then he added. "I have to go to work tomorrow too. Won't be long, just a couple of hours I suppose."

"Why? You don't have work tomorrow," Sherlock looked up from the microscope. "I looked at the calendar," he added with a slightly proud tone that reminds John of a child begging for praise. He chuckled a bit.

"Yeah, just some paperwork that remained undone today. I'll hurry." John tried to sound as casual as possible. He saw Sherlock's frown. It did happen sometimes, that John's working schedule changed from one day to another but just a few hours due to paperwork, that was unusual.

"Well," John said, knowing perfectly well which buttons to push to distract Sherlock. "What about the case? I already thought about a nice title for the blog. What do you think about 'His last service'?"

* * *

"I suppose, I don't have to tell you how the procedure is going to work, Dr. Watson?" Allison, the radiology assistant, asked while John tried to find a comfortable position on the stretcher of the MRI device.

"No. I have been in such a thing a couple of times already," John replied. He had several MRI-scans for his shoulder and leg after his injury in Afghanistan. "It will be cold, loud and boring," he said smiling.

Allison laughed. "I'll get you a blanket and there are these of course," she gave him a set of "Mickey Mouse" hearing protectors. "I'm afraid I cannot do much against boredom. The newer devices include the feature of playing music over the headphones. But I'm afraid we don't have one of those."

"Pity, some Beatles songs would be really nice now," John joked and Allison laughed, she suggested he should sing to himself, she wouldn't mind. Allison was a nice woman and previously, before he and Sherlock became a couple, he would have probably asked her out on a date. The thought of Sherlock made John felt guilty for lying to his partner about the appointment today.

"Ready?" Allison asked after she fixed John on the stretcher and tucked the blanket around him. He nodded.

The stretcher drove into the small tube and soon the rumbling and knocking of the machine began. John closed his eyes. The noise was still loud despite the ear muffs but was also so monotonous that he dozed off a bit.

* * *

John looked at the pictures of scan and a cold shudder ran down his spin. Sean and Dr. Brian Atkins, a radiologist, who was more experienced in the interpretation of MRI-scans than Sean or John was, had just explained the results to him. "A tumor," John said and tried to gulp down the lump that formed in his throat. "Cancer." It was more a statement than a question.

"Not necessarily, no. The pictures do not show all the typical indications for a cancer tumor," Dr. Atkins said.

"But it could be?"

"Yes," Sean replied with a struggle. "Yes it could be. We need to look at it more closely."

"You mean surgery?"

"Yes. The sooner, the better. If it is cancer, the chances of a full recovery increase each day the earlier we start the treatment," Dr. Atkins sounded cold and distant. But John knew he was right and at the moment he was glad for the doctor's professionalism.

The next hour passed in a blur. The surgery to remove the tumor was set up for next Tuesday at 1pm. The necessary examinations for preparation were carried out. Sean and John talked about the procedure and risks of the operation. When everything was finally settled John felt numb. He couldn't quite associate the situation with himself. It felt like he was watching someone else.

"John," Sean said in his best comforting-doctor-voice as he accompanied his colleague towards the exit. "Please don't worry too much. You know, it's most likely something benign. An adenoma or even a FNH maybe." John nodded but wasn't really convinced. "I know, it's still a surgery containing some risks," Sean continued. "But besides of your liver you are in a good condition. Everything is going to be ok."

* * *

John had just hailed a cab when he found a text from Sherlock on his phone, saying he should meet him at the latest crime scene as soon as possible. John hesitated a moment. He actually thought of heading directly back home but sitting alone at the flat would probably drove him up the wall at the moment. He needed time to process the events of today. Maybe the case would provide him with enough distraction to clear his mind and prepare for the talk he was going to have with Sherlock.

John arrived at the crime scene half an hour later. It was a business park which had seen better days. Most of the buildings were in poor condition and many shops were closed. Before he left the cap John took some deep breaths and put a neutral expression in his face. With a partner like Sherlock you develop some practice in not wearing your feelings right on your face. John entered the garage, in which its owner was murdered four days ago.

Sherlock was busy arguing with Anderson about the relevance of some clues Sherlock had found. Lestrade stood next to them and tried to end their argument but both men didn't give him a chance to speak. When John approached the trio he heard Sherlock saying something like "… even a car jack is smarter then you."

"That's enough, Sherlock," Lestrade barked and Anderson stalked away sulking. "Hello John," the DI said when he noticed his attendance.

"Your paper work did take long," Sherlock snapped, obviously annoyed by the lack of John's presence during this case.

"Yeah, sorry, it was more than I had expected."

Sherlock was too occupied with his anger towards Anderson and the stupidity of the Yard (which he proclaimed towards Lestrade several times during the next hours) to notice John's tension. Luckily they were soon busy with the case again so John could shove the thoughts of the surgery to the back of his mind. In the afternoon, the case was solved. The owner of another garage, two blocks away, was arrested.

"Business rivalry! What a boring motive!" Sherlock exclaimed while they waited for a cab to arrive.

"Well, not for him obviously," John just said.

That's when Sherlock realized that John had been oddly quiet in the last hours. "Are you ok?"

"Yes. Yes of course, I am fine," John replied quickly and smiled. _Not now_, he thought, _this is not the right moment to tell him._ "So what do you think? Angelo's or the Chinese near Baker Street?"

"Chinese. Take away. I want to be home as soon as possible," Sherlock said and gave him a look which sent a pleasant shiver down John's back.

By the time Sherlock and John got together, they established (well, Sherlock demanded it) a simple rule: Not much (John demanded the 'not much' instead of 'no') physical contact during a case. Sherlock didn't like any distraction from his precious work not even from John. So their relationship during cases was limited to harmless kisses (mostly from John) or light touches. But when a case has been solved, Sherlock was very eager to resume the physical aspects of their relationship.

Just as today.

* * *

When John awoke the next morning, the events of the day before smashed down on him immediately. _I'll have a surgery in a couple of days. I have a tumor in my liver. It might be cancer._ He tossed and turned for a while, tried to calm his racing mind. He turned around facing Sherlock who was still in deep sleep. He was curled up on his side, the duvet wrapped around his naked body. Normally watching his partner sleep had a soothing effect on John but not today. He felt guilty, that he hadn't talked to Sherlock the previous day about the surgery. But the evening had been so nice especially after they went to bed to, well, celebrated the resolution of the latest case in their own way. He just could not bring himself to destroy the peace they had.

John got more and more agitated each minute. He glanced at Sherlock once again. They had just finished a case that kept him awake for nearly two days, so he would probably sleep a bit longer. Carefully, John got up, put some clothes on and quietly left the room. He was unsure what to do but finally decided he needed more information. He had been a surgeon in the military and now worked in the A&E. He didn't know much more about cancer therapy than the things he learned in university and that was ages ago.

John sat down in front of his laptop and began some research. He didn't notice how much time had passed but after a while he had a first overview about types of liver cancer and treatment options. It didn't really help to calm his nerves. John heard a creak from the room next door. He immediately shut the laptop and stood up.

"John?" a sleepy Sherlock emerged from the bedroom. "Since when were you awake?"

"Oh, just a couple of minutes. I was about to go to Tesco's."

"Now?" Sherlock wondered about John's unusual haste, especially on a Saturday morning.

"Yes, we are almost out of milk. Besides we need eggs, I thought about pancakes for breakfast. You want anything else?"

Sherlock shook his head, still occupied with waking up.

"Ok, I'll be back in a moment," John said, put on his jacket and then left in a hurry.

When he was on the street John took several deep breaths. Maybe it was a mistake to look on these websites, before having a confirmed diagnosis. That's what he always told his own patients. _Be patient, don't freak out._ Now he experienced how hard it was to follow his own advice. A bit of air and a walk; that was exactly what he needed now to get his head clear. So he turned to the left and headed for the supermarket.

In the flat, Sherlock made coffee, still wondering about John's odd behavior. When he returned to the living room, his eyes fell on John's laptop. The power signal was on. _Strange_, Sherlock thought. He was absolutely certain, that he had shut down the device yesterday evening. Hadn't John told him, he was awake only for a few minutes? Sherlock set his mug down and opened the laptop.


	3. I won't lose you

**3. I won't lose you**

John returned half an hour later with two shopping bags in his hands. He had settled down a bit and had already thought about how to tell Sherlock about the upcoming surgery. When he entered the living room he saw Sherlock sitting in front of his laptop. He was paler than usual and when he looked up, John saw an expression between fear, disbelief, anger and disappointment. _Shit!_

"Sherlock…" he began.

"When?" Sherlock said in a low and dangerously calm voice. "When had you planned to tell me this?"

"Look, I came back from the hospital yesterday. And then there was the case, and…"

"And what?" Sherlock interrupted once again, his voice trembling with anger now. "You hold me so superficial that I would find the case more important than your health? More important than finding out my partner has cancer?"

"It's not definite, yet," John replied, feeling his own temper rising. He understood Sherlock's agitation but he would clearly appreciate the opportunity to give him a proper explanation.

"Oh great, very soothing!" his voice louder and dripped with sarcasm. "I suppose, you expect me to be grateful for not being distracted."

_Ok, that's enough_, John thought. _A reasonable conversation is not possible at the moment._

"You know what! Yell at the wall, the skull or whatever. Throw your temper tantrum like a five year old! I am the one that may be seriously ill. I must come to terms with it first!" John finally yelled desperation in his voice. "I'm going for a walk. I need some air!"

Without waiting for an answer, John slammed the shopping bags on the ground, turned on his heels and left the flat.

* * *

There was this place in Regent's Park - a bench a little of from the main path, hidden between some bushes near a small pond. John always went here when he and Sherlock had a fight. Sherlock knew about it but he seldom came here. He normally respected his partner's wishes for privacy. Today was different though. About an hour after John's leaving, he slowly approached the bench on which John sat with a very thoughtful and sad face. Sherlock felt his stomach contract by the sight of his partner. His emotions wreaked havoc after seeing the websites about liver cancer and treatment options, suddenly realizing the reason for John's distant behavior in the last few days. But the only feeling left now was fear. Sherlock sat down next to John and both men said nothing for a while.

Finally, John raised one arm and run his hand gingerly through Sherlock's curls. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Sherlock shut his eyes momentarily, enjoying the feeling of John caressing his hair. He took a deep breath. "Me too. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"It's ok," John replied.

"What happened?"

John told him about the first blood results, the assumption of a measuring error, the second sample and about the uncertain ultrasound pictures and results of the MRI scan yesterday. Finally, he told him about the upcoming surgery. "I am sorry," John said again. "I should have told you earlier. At least yesterday, after the scan."

"No," Sherlock said and looked at John, anger and fear written all over his face. "You should have told me much earlier. Why haven't you? Don't you trust me anymore?" The desperation in Sherlock's voice was hard to bear. "I know I can be ignorant sometimes, but..."

"No!" John interrupted, his heart clenched at his partner's words. He cupped Sherlock's face in his hands and stroked slowly with is thump along his cheekbones. "No, that's not it. It's... I didn't want to worry you. And, I think, I didn't want to worry myself," John hesitated while Sherlock slowly relaxed under his touch. "I don't know…as long as I didn't tell anybody, it felt as if it wasn't true. I could ignore it. But if I had told you, it would have become much more real. This doesn't really make sense to you, doesn't it?"

"A bit," Sherlock replied with a tiny smile.

"I was afraid," John finally admitted. "God, I AM afraid," he said and his voice sounded hoarse.

Sherlock leant forward until their foreheads touch. He took Johns hands in his own. Both men stayed still for a long moment, just relishing the presents of one another and seeking strength.

"I won't lose you," Sherlock finally said with determination. "I won't let that happen."

* * *

Sherlock received a call from Lestrade shortly after they had returned to their flat. "He has a new case," Sherlock told John. "I will tell him, we won't come this time."

"No," John said quickly. "It's ok. Let's go."

"But…"

"Please Sherlock. I don't want to spend the next days musing about the things that might come. I need a distraction. We need a distraction."

Sherlock looked into John's pleading eyes and nodded. "Right, I'll ask him for the address."

* * *

"Trouble in paradise?" Sergeant Donovan said snippy.

"Shut up, Sally," Lestrade grumbled in a stern voice.

The DI immediately noticed that something was off. Sherlock was much more agitated as usual and surprisingly didn't seem so eager about the crime scene as well. John also seemed a little tense but remained friendly and polite as always. "Everything alright? You two are a bit off the track today," Lestrade asked as he and John stood near the victim waiting for Sherlock to finish his examination.

"What?" John was only listening with half an ear. "No, we are fine." Lestrade had his doubts but didn't ask further questions, hoping John would talk to him, if he felt the need.

"I need to see the victim's flat," Sherlock said after finishing his investigation of the crime scene. He stood next to John, much closer than usual. It almost looked as if he would have to suppress the urge to take his partner's hand. Usually John and Sherlock kept their relationship as private as possible, especially around the Yard. But some of the Yarders, particularly those with whom they worked together frequently, knew.

After the victim's flat they visited his workplace. John and Lestrade questioned the staff while Sherlock investigated the victim's bureau. He glanced around constantly, to make sure where John was. As if he was afraid the other might just disappear.

The case proved to be more difficult than originally thought and kept them occupied the whole weekend. It indeed provided the kind of distraction Sherlock and John needed. Both men engrossed themselves deeply in the investigation and keep the dark thoughts about the things to come at bay.

On Monday around lunchtime Sherlock and John stood in Lestrade's office and presented their results. Lestrade was impressed by the level of detail and accuracy they used - double-checking some of the evidences, comprehensible documentation. In addition, both had already written their statements down. Lestrade, though happy with the results, frowned. This was all very unusual. But he did not get to question their behavior, as Sherlock already turned to go. John gave the DI an apologetic _you-know-how-he-is_-smile and followed suit.

* * *

"Do you want to do something special today?" Sherlock asked cautiously on their way back to Baker Street. They hadn't talked about the surgery much in the last two days. But now as the case was over the whole subject hung over them like a sword of Damocles once again.

"I'm not allowed to eat anything after 7pm. So let's get an early dinner afterwards at Angelo's."

Angelo was delighted to see them and immediately put a candle on their table. But soon he noticed the strange atmosphere between his favorite costumers (well, guests, as they never paid for their meals). Both just pick at their food without actually eating much. Angelo tried to begin a conversation, asked about the things they were up to recently but Sherlock just ignored him and John gave only brief answers. Finally Angelo left them alone but occasionally threw a worried look in their direction. John gave him a light squeeze on the shoulder as they left. "It's fine Angelo. Just not our day today."

They retired to bed early this evening cuddling close together and trying to give each other comfort. But Sherlock was a bit restless. John could sense that something was on his partner's mind. "What is it?" he asked.

Sherlock stayed silent for a moment. He began stroking through John's hair before he finally spoke. "How risky is the surgery?"

"Well, it's a surgical procedure on a major organ," John said but noticed that this answer was not really sufficient. He sighed. "The liver has a strong blood circulation so the biggest risk of the surgery is blood loss, especially if the tumor is grown strong together with the surrounding." John felt Sherlock's tension and held him a bit tighter. "They'll be prepared for this. They'll have units of stored blood ready should the need arise."

They fell silent once again, both just staring into the beginning darkness of the night.

"It'll be fine," John whispered. He sat up a little and gave Sherlock a tender kiss. "Let's get some sleep." He suddenly felt very worn out. Sherlock didn't object. He continued stroking his partner's hair as John slowly drifted off to sleep.

Sherlock lay awake for a long time.


	4. He'll be fine

**4. He'll be fine**

John woke up rather early. Sherlock next to him was still asleep, which John was glad about. He suspected that Sherlock had laid awake half the night, probably brooding. John felt relatively calm. He was relieved, that the day of the surgery was finally here. He wanted to get it over with and wanted certainty about his situation.

Sherlock and John spent the morning in silence both too much lost in their own thoughts. John had packed his bag for the hospital while Sherlock tried to occupy himself with his violin. It went quite poorly. This composition would go straight into the trash. Around noon, John was glad that they were finally able to set off. He felt incredible hungry and Sherlock's tension was making him nervous too.

They were just about to leave the flat when Sherlock had a thought. "Maybe would should have called Mrs. Hudson. I think she would like to know that you are in hospital."

Mrs. Hudson had left to go to her sister a few days ago but left her number in any cases of emergency.

"No Sherlock, please," John said in a hurry. "I don't want anybody to know about the surgery."

"Why not?"

"I … I don't want to worry anybody."

Sherlock looked him in the eye and understood that it was more than just that. "You don't want pity."

"Yes. If everything is fine, we put this behind us, and it isn't necessary for anybody to know," John hesitated before he continued, "If the worst case happens, pity will come soon enough."

Sherlock flinched inwardly by the words 'worst case' but nodded. "Ok, I won't tell anybody then."

"Thanks," John smiled and took Sherlock's hand. "I know you are nervous but do not worry too much. I'll be fine. The probability is on my side," John squeezed Sherlock's hand a bit. "Let's go."

They hailed a cab and John suppressed a sudden urge to look back at the front door of 221B. _Don't be silly_, he scold himself. _I will be back in a couple of days. Everything will be fine._

When they arrived at the hospital everything was already prepared. John felt weird about being a patient in his own workplace. Maybe he should have chosen another hospital. On the other hand, these were his colleagues and he trusted them, much more then he trusts any foreign doctors. If the outcome of the surgery was bad, he would consider going to a different hospital for therapy. But now he was fine here.

A nurse took them to John's room and soon after he had changed into one of these nasty hospital gowns, Sean O'Mara arrived.

"Good afternoon, John. Sherlock."

"Hello Sean," John answered with a thin smile.

Sherlock mumbled something about this hardly being a good afternoon. John shot him a reproachful glare, but Sean just shrugged and gave them a reassuring smile. Sean had met Sherlock a couple of times and knew that he generally was not the most social person. And especially in this situation, he didn't expect him to be.

"Everything is prepared, John," he continued. "Any further questions?"

"No. Let's get over with it."

"Fine. We'll fetch you up in a few minutes. I suppose, you don't need something to calm?"

"Course not," John replied with a half-hearted grin.

"OK, I'll leave you two alone, then."

"Can I have something to calm?" Sherlock joked lamely after Sean had left.

"No," John said and pulled Sherlock towards him. He cupped his partner's face in his hands, made him meet his gaze. "Stop worrying. Everything will be alright. OK? I am in capable hands here."

Sherlock made a quiet huff at this statement. _The best doctor this hospital has will be on the operating table_, he thought but didn't say anything.

"Don't drive the doctors and nurses up the wall. Promise?"

A small grin spread over Sherlock's face. "I'll try."

John pulled Sherlock even closer and they kissed. The kiss was full of desperation, sorrow and fear on both sides. Neither of them wanted to let go, but soon they heard the door open once again.

"I love you," John whispered.

"I love you too."

* * *

"How long will the surgery take?" Sherlock asked. He accompanied Sean and the two nurses who pushed John's bed towards the operation area.

"It depends on how deeply the tumor has grown into the surrounding tissue." Sean answered and Sherlock had to suppress a shudder. This was the critical part of the surgery. "But I suppose not more than two hours."

They reached the entrance of the OP-area.

"Claire," Sean pointed towards one of the nurses, "will show you where you can wait. I'll come around right after the surgery is over. OK?" Sherlock nodded weakly. "We'll take good care of him, I promise." Then the doors went open and they drove John away.

* * *

After three hours, Sherlock was about to kill someone. Something went wrong. Images of John bleeding out on the operation table ghosting through his mind, the steady tune of a flat line ringing in his ears. When a nurse passed the door, Sherlock sprinted forward grabbing her arm firmly and demanded to know what happened to his partner. The young woman stepped back from him anxiously, tears in her eyes as she hurried away. A moment later an elder nurse entered the room and told him that the surgery was still in progress. She gave him an unmistakable warning that she would call security if he got rough against the staff one more time.

Sherlock was left alone once again and let out a frustrated groan. He paced through the waiting room, barley able to suppress the upcoming panic. After 20 more seemingly endless minutes Dr. Sean O'Mara finally came in. Sherlock immediately tried to deduce the doctor. He looked tired. That was all. That was all he could see. Sherlock was shaken with fear so much that he was unable to make any helpful deductions about Dr. O'Mara, the surgery or John's condition.

"What happened?" Sherlock demanded before Sean even had a chance to open his mouth. "Something went wrong. Was it the blood loss? How is he?"

"Please Sherlock, calm down," Sean said raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Yes there had been slight complications. John lost a certain amount of blood, so a transfusion was needed. And we had some problems with his blood pressure during the surgery. But he is stable now. He is in the ICU and if he doesn't get an infection or any further complications, he will be fine."

Sherlock stared at Sean, trying to perceive the information the doctor just told him. _Blood loss. ICU. But stable._ "What about the tumor?"

"We were able to remove it completely. It has been sent to the lab. The results should be back in about three days."

_Blood loss. ICU. Stable. Tumor gone._ Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Sean's hands on his upper arms. "Sherlock, John is going to be fine," he said in a calming voice once again. "Come, I'll take you to him."

Sherlock had to disinfect his hands and put a sterile coat over his clothes before he was allowed to enter John's room in the ICU. John was surrounded by several machines which monitored his vital signs and a drip was attached to his left arm. He was ghostly pale and looked so fragile as if he was closer to death than to life. An overwhelming rage came over Sherlock mixed with fear. He would like to yell to someone, throw something against the wall. But he knew that he would probably get banned from hospital after that. Besides, nothing of this would help to improve his partner's condition. So he sat by John's bedside, trying to get his emotions under control, and took his hand, waiting for John to wake up from anesthesia. Sherlock didn't know how much time had passed but after a while John began to stir a bit and showed signs of wakening. "John," Sherlock said softly. "John, wake up."

It took some more moments until John finally opened his eyes. He looked around, disoriented at first but soon realization of his situation settled in. "Didn't go as planned?" he asked weakly. He felt tired and dizzy. His whole body felt so heavy, even keeping his eyes open was a challenge.

"No. Not exactly. You are in the ICU. You lost blood during surgery." Sherlock said, still holding John's hand and stroking small circles on it with his thumb.

"Told you, that could happen," John said.

"Are you in pain?"

John shook his head slightly. "No. I'm fine."

"You gave us a little scare, John," Sean O'Mara said. Sherlock looked up. He hadn't heard the other man coming in.

"I'm sorry," John mumbled at looked at his colleague. "How much blood?"

"Just one unit. But your blood pressure went a little crazy. We had to make a small break during surgery until it stabilized." Sean explained briefly about the tumor being removed and sent to the lab. He checked John's vitals and left him and Sherlock alone once again.

Both men spent the afternoon mostly in silence. John was too exhausted and weak for any conversation. He dozed most of the time while Sherlock held his hand or stroked his hair. Occasionally he asked his partner if he felt any pain. But John didn't due to strong pain killers.

In the evening, John wasn't allowed to eat yet but managed to drink a glass of water, Sean visited his patient and friend once again. "We'll administer a mild sedation for the night so your body can rest and regain some strength, ok?"

John just nodded. "Doing me favor, Sean?"

"Sure."

"Ensure Sherlock goes home afterwards."

"But John…" Sherlock began but was shut silent by a slight squeeze of his hand.

"I'll be asleep the whole night. There is nothing you can do here. Please go home and get some rest yourself," John said and felt so exhausted by this little speech his eyelids began to drop.

Sherlock saw the fatigue of his partner and decided not to argue with him. "OK."

"I'll take care of it," Sean replied as he administered the sedative into the drip.

"Good night, see you tomorrow," John whispered before he felt into a drug-induced sleep.

Sherlock didn't left immediately but stayed for another hour until he finally decided to keep his promise and go home. He stroke over John's cheeks and pressed a kiss on his partner's forehead. Panic rushed through Sherlock's body as he touched John's face again. His skin felt warm. Too warm.


	5. Was it worth it?

**5. Was it worth it?**

Sherlock had pushed the call-a-nurse-button immediately and only seconds later one of the ICU nurses entered the room.

"He has a fever," Sherlock said, still touching John's cheek.

The nurse left and returned moments later with a thermometer. "38.1 degrees," she said. "It's a mild fever."

"Your unqualified opinion whether the fever is mild is not relevant," Sherlock barked. "Call Dr. O'Mara!"

Despite his harsh tone the nurse didn't seem to be offended. She worked in the ICU and was confronted with upset relatives every day. She just nodded and left the room.

It took Sean O'Mara only a few minutes to arrive at the ICU. Sherlock had to leave the room while he made a brief examination. "We are going to monitor his temperature during the night," the doctor said after the nurse had let Sherlock in again. "If it goes up, we'll administer fever-reducing medicine and we'll make a blood analysis in the morning."

"Is this all? You said early, an infection could be dangerous due to the blood loss. Now he is burning up and all you want to do is wait?" Sherlock almost yelled. He didn't care whether he disturbed other patients.

"He has a low-grade fever." Sean replied with a calm and soothing tone. "It does happen regularly that patients develop a mild fever after an operation. In most cases, it is a side effect of the anesthesia or a stress response of the body towards the surgery. That's why I suggested the sedative, to let his body rest after the strenuous events of today."

Sherlock's gaze was fixed on John, holding his hand once again. Sean wasn't sure if the detective had heard him probably.

"Sherlock," he said and laid his hand gently on the other man's shoulder. "The fever is most likely not a sign of infection. The surgery is just a couple of hours ago. It would be much too early for this."

"But it could be?"

"Yes," Sean replied with as much struggle as he had answers John's _'But it could be'_-question a few days ago. "Yes it could be. But it is very unlikely."

Sherlock said nothing, just stared at John. But at least he seemed to have calmed down a little.

"Go home," Sean suggested. "We are monitoring him closely."

"No." Sherlock snapped. "I'll stay."

"Sherlock…"

"I. Am. Not. Leaving. Him. Now."

* * *

Sean had finally relented. Sherlock stayed the whole night. The nurse who regularly came in to check on John didn't try to kick him out either. John's temperature didn't go up but stayed around 38 degrees until in the early hours of morning it finally dropped a bit.

Eventually, Sherlock had fallen asleep with his head on John's bed, still clutching his partner's hand. The nurse carefully shook him awake when the light of the new day already shone into the room. "Sir?" he blinked at her smiling face. "His temperature is almost back to normal, 37.0 degrees." Sherlock glanced at John who looked indeed a bit better than the previous evening. "He'll wake up soon," the nurse added.

Only a few minutes later John's eyes blinked open. It took him a moment to become fully awake but then he looked at Sherlock with frown. "I thought I told you to go home." his voice was hoarse and sounded still weak but also annoyed.

"Why do you think I hadn't?" Sherlock said defiantly.

"I am sick, not stupid," John said a bit more gently now. "Your coat looks ruffled and you have an imprint on your face. Sleeping in a chair bent over with your head on my mattress is not good for your back."

"Your observation skills are improving," Sherlock said and couldn't help but smile. He was relieved that John obviously felt better.

"I learned from the best," John replied, returning the smile. "So, what happened?"

"You had a fever during the night. Around 38 degrees but it subsided in the morning."

"Aseptic fever," John said and nodded. "Can happen after a surgery. I experienced it after all shoulder surgeries. It's nothing serious. Sean should have told you."

"He did. But I was afraid you might have got an infection." Sherlock answered and looked down at their entwined hands. "I … I was scared," he whispered.

John said nothing. He should have scolded Sherlock for his stubbornness. But in fact, he was glad that his partner was still at his side. Though he did felt a bit better then yesterday he still felt weaker than he had for a long time. "It's ok," he finally said with a strained voice and stroked Sherlock's hand.

John's condition did not improve much during the day. He didn't felt any pain, but was fuzzy, as if his head was full of cotton wool. Sherlock stayed with him the whole time. Occasionally he read to him from the novel that John had packed in for hospital. But again and again John dozed off.

In the afternoon, Sean O'Mara announced that John would be moved into a regular room. "Your blood values are ok, no sign of infection. Your other vitals are stable too." John seemed to be satisfied with this decision but Sherlock wasn't convinced.

"Wouldn't another night at the ICU be better?"

"No Sherlock," John said before Sean had a chance to reply. "I'm fine."

John was moved to the room which was originally prepared for him, just before supper. He did manage a small bowl of soup but declined the bread, the first meal he was allowed to eat after the surgery.

Before his shift ended Sean visited John once again. "I spoke to the lab. We'll get the results of the biopsy tomorrow."

"Good," John replied. "That's good." He was fed up with waiting.

"And now," Sean said and looked expectantly first at Sherlock and then at John. "I am going to keep the promise I gave yesterday."

John grinned slightly. "Agreed."

"Which promise?" Sherlock asked confused but soon realized what they were talking about.

* * *

Sherlock was annoyed that Sean and John forced him to leave the hospital. Sean even accompanied him towards the exit, as if to ensure the man would indeed go. "Sherlock, John is OK for now. The recovery proceeds very well."

"But he is still so weak and tired," Sherlock almost whined. He would have clearly preferred to stay at his partner's side.

"Sherlock, John's surgery is over for barely 24 hours now. His body needs time to recover from surgery, anesthesia and the blood loss. Besides, he got strong pain killers which made him a bit dizzy additionally. We'll change the medication tomorrow. And we will run some examinations, like a MRI scan, to control the healing."

Sherlock immediately looked alarmed.

"These examinations are completely normal and routine after those kinds of surgery." Sean tried to reassure him. "Sherlock, I would never have ordered to move him from the ICU if I wasn't sure about his state."

Sherlock fixed his gaze on Sean but he saw no dishonesty. Finally he nodded. They reached the entrance hall. "Go home, try to get some rest," the doctor continued. He gave Sherlock a slight pat on the shoulder and left to end his work day.

Sherlock was just about to leave the hospital when he spotted two people, obviously a couple, near the exit. He couldn't help but stop and stare at them. A young man held his girlfriend in his arms who apparently was a patient in this hospital given the drip she pushed next to her. Her age wasn't easy to estimate due to her bare head and fragile, skinny stature. _Cancer patient,_ Sherlock thought and observed her posture closely. No unnatural gestures or careful movements to avoid pain that indicates any surgery. _Leukemia_, he supposed. With a sad face the man placed several kiss on the girl's face until he finally left the hospital. The young women took her drip and slowly walked towards the elevator.

Sherlock stared at the closing door and wondered if he and John would say goodbye to each other in the same way soon.

* * *

Sherlock wasn't able to concentrate on anything while he was at home. He tried to set up an experiment but messed up with the ingredients, so he left the kitchen table in a mess. Television was out of question. The stupidity of the people only increased his bad mood. The violin, which usually helps him to calm his mind, didn't work either.

At some point Sherlock decided he could as well try to get some sleep. He was exhausted by the events of the last 2 days and the few minutes he napped in the hospital chair near John's bedside weren't exactly restful. He expected falling asleep would be difficult but his body demanded rest as soon as his head hit the pillow. Unfortunately his mind wouldn't calm down as quickly as his body.

_They were chasing a suspect through the streets of London. Sherlock ran ahead, John following close behind. He ran around a corner but the footsteps behind him_ _abruptly disappeared. He stopped and turned around "John?"_

"_Sherlock," he heard John's voice, hoarse and weak._

_Sherlock walked around the corner and suddenly wasn't on the street anymore but in the doorway of their bedroom. John was curled in bed. He looked pale and ill, had lost several pounds of weight._

"_John!" Sherlock said and rushed to his partner's side._

_All of a sudden the scenery changed again. They were no longer in the bedroom but in a hospital room. John was still in bed and Sherlock almost stumbled back at the sight of his partner. Johns head was bald and he was hooked up to various machines and a drip. The weight loss was severe. Face and cheeks were thin, pale and emaciated, his eyes sunk deep in their sockets. John's eyes, their sight was more shocking than anything else. His eyes, which normally were so filled with life and love, were empty, unfocused and lifeless. Sherlock grabbed John's skinny hand. "John," he said quietly. "John, I'm here." The grip of John's hand increased very slightly as a response. Sherlock smiled, but the smile disappeared immediately from his face when he realized that John's figure got more and more __translucent__. "Don't leave me John," Sherlock said, tears streaming down his face. The grip of the other man got weaker and weaker as he slowly faded away. _

_John looked at him at last. "I love you," he whispered. Sherlock read the words from John's lips. His voice was barely audible._

"_John!" Sherlock screamed. "JOHN!"_

Sherlock woke up, panting, gasping for air. He was drenched in sweat; his shirt clung to his body. The scream of John's name still burned in his throat. Sherlock felt his stomach turning and just made it to the toilet before being sick. He bent several times over the bowl and vomited until his stomach finally settled. Sherlock leaned up against the bathroom wall, eyes closed and tried to calm down. It didn't work. His breathing became faster and faster, a feeling of suffocation. His heart pounded in his chest and he was shaking all over. Sherlock knew what was happening to him, it was the beginning of an anxiety attack. He experienced some during his drug addiction and withdrawal when he had miscalculated a dose or the craving for the drug was really bad. His fists dug into his pajama pants as he desperately tried to get his breathing under control. But it only got worse. A light whimper escaped his mouth as he curled up into a ball and gave in to the panic.

Sherlock couldn't remember falling asleep. After a while the attack abated but left him so exhausted, that he had no strength to move back to bed. Now he awoke lying on the bathroom floor still curled up and shivering from cold. He slowly rose, untangling his limps, every muscle of his body screamed in protest. His stomach hurt and he had a foul taste in his mouth. Sherlock carefully stood up but his legs were so shaky he had to sit on the rim of the bathtub for a moment and took some deep breath. After splashing some water in his face and brushing his teeth he stumbled back to the bedroom. It was hardly 6am and he felt so worn out, he desperately wanted some more sleep.

Sherlock drifted in and out of a light slumber but wasn't able to find really restful sleep anymore. At some point he gave up, lying on his back, just staring towards the ceiling. The images of the nightmare were still present in his mind. His stomach cramped slightly at the pure thought of it.

Sherlock turned onto his right side watching the empty space of the bed beside him. He wondered whether it was a good thing that he opened up for emotions by being with John. Of course, he would also be affected by his illness if they were not a couple but just friends. But he wouldn't hurt so much - mentally and physically - if he hadn't broken his sociopathic shell. He wondered whether it was worth it. On the other hand he didn't really have a choice. The love that broke his shell, his shield, had grown inside him, inside his heart long before he was aware of it and it couldn't be removed. But at the moment fear and sorrow were so intense, so painful Sherlock almost wished to have his heart of stone back.


	6. Audrey

**6. Audrey**

When Sherlock approached John's room at about 10am he was stopped by a nurse who told him that John had been taken to his examinations and he wasn't allowed to be present. He initially wanted to wait in John's room but then decided to go to the cafeteria. He had not eaten dinner yesterday and also no breakfast this morning. The pure thought of food made him feel nauseas again but he should probably at least try to eat something.

Sherlock sat down at a table beside the window. He sipped at a cup of tea and nibbled a few tiny pieces of a biscuit while staring out of the window. The morning was grey and rainy just like his mood. A cheerful laughter interrupted his thoughts. Sherlock looked into the direction of the unusual noise and froze. Two tables away sat the young woman and her boyfriend he had seen in the foyer yesterday, both holding hands and giggling. The woman had her bald head covered with a knitted yellow hat with sewn felt flowers on it. She was wearing similar sweatpants like yesterday and a big bright green fleece jumper.

Sherlock observed the two closely who apparently were enjoying themselves very much. The man whispered something and his girlfriend burst in such a loud laughter that half of the visitors of the cafeteria looked in their direction. She looked around with an apologetic smile, but didn't seem to be embarrassed. After a while Sherlock resumed his staring out of the window, wondering how those two people maintain their joyfulness despite of the severe illness of the girl.

"Haven't you been taught that it's rude to stare at other people?" someone suddenly said.

Sherlock looked up. The young woman sat down across from him. "I beg your pardon?"He was surprised, he had not noticed her coming.

"You were staring. Yesterday at the entrance hall and now here," she replied but did not seem angry.

"I've been told that tact is hardly one of my strengths," Sherlock said, still surprised about this sudden encounter. "But I apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable."

"Oh, don't worry, you didn't," she said cheerfully and took a sip of her Coke. "Who is it?" she asked. Her tone has changed and was now soft and empathic.

"Who is… who?" Sherlock was not sure what she was getting at.

"The person you worry about and who is here in hospital," she replied and when he did not immediately answer she continued, "He or she has cancer. Am I right?"

"How… how do you know?"

"It's the way you looked at me. Over the time I have cataloged the different types of looks. Many are curious or sympathetic, sometimes they are disgusted. And sometimes they are like yours."

"How have I looked at you?"

"As if you wondered whether your friend will soon look like me."

Sherlock wondered if that's how people felt when he was taking their life apart with his deductions. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Sherlock just nodded, remembering the dreadful image of John in his nightmare.

She smiled and continued. "It's someone you love, isn't it? Your wife? Oh no, you don't wear a ring. Your girlfriend?" She tilted her head slightly while she analyzed him.

"My partner." Sherlock replied. "John."

"Boyfriend then," she giggled when she saw Sherlock's reaction of the word 'boyfriend' – a irritated frown, he always despised this term. "I'm Audrey by the way," she said and held out her hand.

"Sherlock," he replied. Her handshake was firm.

"Oh, and before you ask," Audrey said. "No, it's not after the famous actress." She ignored Sherlock's raised eyebrow (_Which actress?_) and continued. "My parents had a really strange kind of humor naming their daughter after a carnivorous plant."

"A carnivorous plant?" Sherlock was confused.

"Yeah, Audrey 2 from 'Little Shop of Horrors'. They always stress that I am named after the plant not after the flower-girl."

Sherlock just shook his head. _Plant? Flower-girl? What is she talking about?_

"The musical," Audrey said truly surprised that there was someone who didn't know the story.

"Oh. Well, I prefer classical music."

"Really? Pity! You should watch it, it's really good. But try the movie. It has a better ending. I like happy endings."

Sherlock smiled slightly. This girl was truly fascinating. Her eyes had a deep brown color which reflected curiosity and joy, passion and strength. They were full of life and had no resemblance to John's numb eyes of his nightmare. He also noticed that she was indeed thin but not as emaciated as he thought yesterday.

"Where is your friend?" Sherlock asked, remembering that she hadn't be alone some moments ago.

"Dave had to go to work. He usually comes by before work, so we can have something like breakfast together, just as we would normally do."

Sherlock nodded. It seemed a nice idea, keeping some kind of normality. He usually despised this word. Normality was dull.

"It's the clue, you know. It's the best you can do. Keeping as much normality and everyday life as possible," Audrey said and Sherlock felt that she analyzed him again. "That's what you are brooding about, isn't it? How you should cope?"

"It's one thing. I…." he hesitated, unsure whether he should trust this strange woman with the sorrows and emotions he didn't even understand himself. "I don't know if I can make it. If I can be the partner John needs if he is actually sick."

"Actually?"

"We are awaiting the biopsy results today," he replied and couldn't help to feel a bit guilty. At least they had still hope that it wouldn't be cancer while she already has to live with the disease.

"Don't worry," Audrey said and smiled warmly. "I don't begrudge anyone their health."

Sherlock looked at Audrey dumbfounded. She giggled and seemed to enjoy the whole situation. But then her tone changed again, becoming gently and her face showed a sort of wise expression."You love him, don't you?"

"Yes," Sherlock said and nodded.

"That's all you two need. Be his friend, his partner, be at his side and try to bring as much normality in his life as possible. And please, at all costs, don't be overprotective and …"

"No pity," Sherlock interrupted her, remembering his conversation with John before they left for the hospital.

"Correct," Audrey replied, determination in her voice. "I can handle anger or sadness. Because people are angry or sad that fate chose me. They are angry or sad for my sake, for me as a person. Pity is much worse than the poison they pump into my body here. Pity reduces me to my illness. But I am still more than the cancer. I am still Audrey." She felt silent for a moment, giving Sherlock the opportunity to think about her words. "And John will still be John," she continued. "Do you think he would like to be treated differently than now? Do you think he wants to be treated like a sick person?"

"No. Never!" Sherlock tilted his head, looking in the face of the young woman who gave him a warm and honest smile. "You are an extraordinary person."

Audrey laughed. "I might appear cheerful to you considering my condition. But don't get me wrong. There are bad days, really bad days, in which I puke my guts out and drowning in self-pity because everything seemed too much. But Dave and my family are with me. He reminds me that all the fighting is worth it. And sometime he needs to give me a good kick in the ass."

They both smiled and stayed silent for a while. Audrey was right. John wouldn't want to be treated differently. He would try his best to keep going on as normal as possible. Sherlock was sure he could handle that. Besides he had never been the type to pity others.

"Now, if you would excuse me," Audrey said after taking a brief look onto the clock on the wall. "I have to go. I have an invitation to a cocktail party," she said with a slightly grim smile. Then her face softened. "I hope your friend will be alright."

"Thank you Audrey. Thank you for… telling me this," Sherlock struggled. He didn't really know what to say, but he was grateful.

Audrey seemed to notice Sherlock's insecurity. She smiled "Just wish me luck," she said, winked at him briefly and left.

"With all my heart," Sherlock replied but he wasn't sure if she had heard him.


	7. Two sides of the coin

**7. Two sides of the coin**

After his conversation with Audrey, Sherlock felt a lot better. He was still worried, but he no longer had the feeling of drowning in his sorrow.

John sat upright in bed; the head section of the bed was adjusted to give him a comfortable position. He flipped through a paper when Sherlock entered the room and smiled. "Sorry you had to wait. I'm a man in demand at the moment."

"So I heard. You enjoyed the morning?" Sherlock said and was relieved seeing John in a joyful mood.

"Oh yes. I had a nice flirt with the radiology assistant. Nice girl."

"I am sure she is absolutely dull," Sherlock replied with a tiny hint of jealousy. John's grin grew wider.

"Compared to you, definately."

John smiled his warm smile that Sherlock loved so much. He sat down next to John on his bed, softly stroking his partner's cheeks. John looked a lot better today. His face regained some colour and his posture showed much more energy. "How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked after a proper kiss.

"Better. Still a bit tired, but much better."

"How were the examinations?"

"Good," John replied. "Scans were normal, no signs of complications."

"The biopsy?"

"Sean said he would get the results this afternoon."

Sherlock nodded. He felt fear rising inside him again by the thought of what they might learn today but tried to remember the things Audrey told him. He met John's gaze – warm and gentle and soothing. _It'll be alright._

Sherlock looked on the paper John had been reading. "The Sun? Really, John!"

"I am not exactly fit enough for the heavy stuff. I would probably have fallen asleep half way through the first article of 'The Guardian'. Besides..." John opened the paper again. "It can be quite entertaining."

Sherlock and John spent the rest of the morning flipping through the paper. Sherlock pointed out (several times) how dull, boring and stupid this sensationalist writing is. ("It's called yellow press, Sherlock."). They were bickering and giggling and a few times John had to try really hard not laughing out loudly, because that would certainly hurt.

After lunch, John felt very tired again and wanted to sleep for a moment. "You should try to take a nap also," he said, the dark bags under Sherlock's eyes were not gone unnoticed. "You look tired."

"I'm fine." Sherlock replied and settled himself in the chair next to the bed to give John space to sleep.

John woke up about two hours later. Sherlock still sat in the chair, looking out of the window, almost apathetic. He was so lost in his thoughts he did not noticed that John had woken up. John watched his partner closely who obviously hadn't napped. Besides the dark circles under his eyes, Sherlock looked exhausted the way he sat slumped in the chair. Sorrow and pain were written all over his face. John suddenly realized how alone his partner must have felt in the last couple of days and how much he probably had suffered due to John's state. John cursed inwardly. Yes, they were a couple for a while now. But he knew very well how hard it still was for Sherlock to deal with his emotions. And now he had allowed that his partner went through hell without anybody there to help him. "I am sorry, Sherlock," he said with a lump in his throat.

"Wha… What?" Sherlock said, turning towards him, trying to regain his composure he let down during John's sleep.

"I am sorry," John repeated and reached out for Sherlock's hand.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock almost snapped. He felt insecure not knowing what John was getting at. "What should you be sorry about?" he said a bit more gently.

"I left you alone with all of this," John replied. "You had to go through this emotional chaos all alone."

"Well, you weren't exactly fit enough in the last two days to discuss my… emotional state." Sherlock said, the last two words spoken in slight sarcastic tone. He was angry at himself for letting his defenses down.

"Yeah, true," John said and smiled sadly. "But I should allow you to talk to someone about it."

Sherlock shrugged. "I would not have talked to anyone anyway. You know I am not good with this."

"You would have, at least with Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock stayed silent for a moment, remembering the dreadful nightmare and the anxiety attack and how much better he felt after the talk with Audrey. "Maybe," he finally admitted.

"Well, I am here now," John said taking both of Sherlock's hands in his own and looked him in the eyes. "Please don't shut yourself up. You don't have to be strong for me. I used to be a soldier, you know. I am used to fighting." John gave Sherlock a moment to let his words sink in. "We are going through this together, no matter what happens."

'_You love him, don't you?' _Audrey had asked him and he fully understands the meaning of her words now. _'That's all you two need.'_ Sherlock squeezed John's hands and nodded. "Together," he replied almost solemnly.

Despite his new found confidence, Sherlock instantly tensed up as soon as Sean O'Mara entered the room. Like the other day, he was not able to deduce anything about the doctor's facial expression or gesture. He smiled, yes, he saw that but he was not able to observe the meaning behind the smile. Sherlock felt blind, as if someone had put an invisible curtain between him and the rest of the world which block off any deductive attempts. His stomach contracts painfully and he felt as if he would be sick again. John on the other hand was calm, completely calm, not even a glimpse of nervousness but, as always he sensed his partners feelings. He took Sherlock's hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Your scans this morning were splendid. No sign of infection. And the wound is healing nicely," Sean begun.

"What about the biopsy?" Sherlock interrupted in a low voice feeling on the edge of collapsing.

Sean's smile spread into a wide grin. "Benign. I told you it would be. It was an adenoma, just like I suspected. No further treatment necessary."

"Thank you, Sean," John said and took a deep breath. "When can I go home?"

"Well," Sean hesitated a moment. "Normally, I would like to keep you in over the weekend. But, as you are a doctor yourself AND when you promise to be careful and rest, then I am willing to release you tomorrow afternoon."

John smiled and nodded. "I promise to behave."

"He will," Sherlock said. His voice was husky and his face a kaleidoscope of emotions - shock, relief, exhaustion, joy.

"Come here," John whispered after Sean had left. Sherlock almost threw himself into an embrace. He nuzzled his face into John's neck and held him tight. A quiet sob escaped him and he felt tears running down his face. _Terrible useless things!_ Especially now. John was fine! Why did he cry?

"Shhhhh," John whispered and had to suppress a sob himself as relieve washed over him and he finally understood what he had just learned. "It's OK, Sherlock. I'm OK! Everything will be OK!"

They stayed silent for a while holding each other in their tight embrace. John occasionally stroking his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"Sorry," Sherlock said when they finally split apart and looked at each other again. His eyes were red and puffy and he felt a bit embarrassed.

"Don't worry," John said whipping away some tears from his partner's as well as his own face. "Sometimes happiness doesn't go without tears."

That reminded Sherlock of something John said to him once, after their first big row when Sherlock had difficulties coping with his negative feelings. He was angry and sad about the fight and almost panicked that John would leave him. Then John had hugged him too.

"_There is no cherry-picking when it comes towards emotions. You get the whole package – joy and sorrow, happiness and sadness, laughter and anger. Two sides of a coin. They go together like light and dark."_

"Hey!" John said stroking over Sherlock's cheeks once again. "Stop brooding."

"I'm not brooding," Sherlock said and smiled. "I just thought how much I'm looking forward to taking you home tomorrow."

"Yeah, snoozing on the couch, watching a DVD, sounds like paradise after all this madness."

"Well, I think I have already something in mind, we could take a look at."

"YOU want to watch a movie?"

Sherlock grinned "Do you know the 'Little Shop of Horrors?'"

* * *

_____Author's note: I have no medical profession. All medical facts described in this story based on an internet research. If anyone noticed serious mistakes, don't hesitate to contact me._


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